


By the Skin of Your Teeth

by emotionalmorphine



Series: Tooth and Claw [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Instincts, Animal Transformation, Feral Behavior, Fluff, M/M, Mates, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Scent Marking, Universe Alteration, Werewolf Fenris, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 05:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalmorphine/pseuds/emotionalmorphine
Summary: Short interludes fromTooth and Clawfeaturing Anders and Fenris. Each chapter contains a different short scene ambiguously placed in the timeline. They are considered canon for the Tooth and Claw universe but are seperate to the main story.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Timesorceror asked: For Tooth and Claw: I, of course, insist on future smut. But not right away, not if that’s where the story doesn’t need to be… so maybe Fenris suddenly gets a compulsion to groom Anders? (He refrains from the outright licking his face in public, but it’s difficult in private.) Yet even in public he can’t help retie Anders’ hair when too much comes loose, or he’ll fuss with Anders’ buckles and such. Teasing ensues and Fenris broods… until he gets to lick Anders’ face later. :P

Anders had a strong dislike of the Wounded Coast. It was humid and windy, much too sandy, and there were these little annoying bugs that stuck to his skin and would leave red, itchy bite marks everywhere. Nothing seemed to deter them. So by the end of day three on the Coast, Anders was just about ready to scream. He spent all day sweaty and uncomfortable and all night scratching. He had no sleep and last night’s dinner of beans and mystery stew wasn’t sitting well this morning.

All together he was not a very happy mage.

Which was maybe why it was so annoying that Hawke was so darn _cheerful_.

“Sleep well, everyone? I had the funniest dream about chasing a giant chicken down for supper. I think my stomach is talking to me.”

“My stomach is definitely talking to me,” Anders said and groaned, hunching over and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Do you want some tea to settle your stomach?” Fenris asked quietly. They were completely ignored as Isabela and Hawke began discussing the activities ahead of them that day.

Anders nodded, his hair falling across his face as it fell loose of his crooked ponytail. His scalp felt itchy with sand. He needed a bath.

Fenris held out the mug and Anders took it with a shaky hand. He could smell the elfroot and foxmint that Fenris must have dropped in to steep. He looked up and saw that Fenris was watching him.

“Thank you,” Anders said. Fenris didn’t exactly smile, but he didn’t not smile, either. He did this funny thing with his lips that Anders wasn’t sure what to call.

“I do not expect that we will be out here beyond today,” Fenris said. He raised his own mug to his lips and drank. Anders wasn’t sure how because the tea was still much too hot for him. “Once we return to Kirkwall, we– I would like–” Fenris made an aggrieved sound and curled his toes into the sand.

“You can ask,” Anders said. Slowly, very slowly, they were coming to a…plateau in their relationship. They still bickered when things turned sour, but that happened less often. They spent more time just talking, and quite often, laughing. It was…nice.

“If you wish, you may use the bathing facilities at the mansion. I have noticed you scratching.”

“It is these blighted bugs!” Anders sighed and, as if on cue, he felt the stinging itch of bug bites along his arm. He wriggled uncomfortably.

“I have a salve that may stop the itching,” Fenris said.

Anders held back a laugh. “Is that not something I have said before to certain, erm, pirates?”

Fenris did smile this time and he looked away at the sand. “It is not quite for that purpose, but I believe it may relieve the itch.”

“Wonderful. I just hope we can get back before nightfall. I don’t want to spend another night out here.”

“You are welcome to…stay. With me. I have other rooms.”

Anders sipped at his tea. It was still hot but he ignored the tingle on his tongue. He couldn’t blame the tea for the warmth on his cheeks, but he could try. He sighed as the wind tugged at his loose hair.

Fenris reached forward and Anders stilled. He let Fenris push back his hair, tucking it behind his ear, one side and then the other. The tea definitely had nothing to do with the shade of red on his cheeks. Fenris pulled back quickly, as if he had realised what he was doing, looking at his hand as if it had betrayed him somehow.

“Thank you,” Anders said. Fenris looked back up. There was that not-smile.

* * *

 

Anders could feel his boots dragging in the sand but he didn’t much care at this point. He was exhausted, covered in Maker knew what, itchy and sweaty, and his stomach had been warring with him all day. He just wanted to go back to Kirkwall to his little clinic and his crappy bed and crusty sheets and sleep for a good day.

“Here,” Fenris held out the water canteen and Anders gratefully accepted it, taking a long drink to try get the feel of sand out of his mouth.

It didn’t work.

He handed the canteen back and thanked Fenris anyway. He had been very attentive all day, making sure Anders drank and handed him mint to chew on when his stomach rebelled.

It hadn’t quite gone unnoticed by Isabela, either. She looked over her shoulder now and grinned at him. If Anders had felt more energetic he would have stuck his tongue out at her. As it was he could barely roll his eyes.

Hawke stopped up ahead, hand shading his eyes as he scanned the horizon. His face was red from sunburn, as were his arms. Anders would have to bring him some lotion when they returned.

Isabela happily leaned against a rocky outcropping, stretching and bending with a wide yawn.

“Anders, you… your–here.” Anders almost leapt back as Fenris reached for his coat. With deft hands, Fenris buckled Anders’ coat closed from where it had fallen open. “Your coat requires repairs.”

Anders had to clear his throat. It was suddenly far drier than even before he stopped for that drink. “Ahh, yes, yes it does. I always mean to and, well…”

Fenris was just holding the hem of Anders’ coat, his finger poking through one of the many holes. “If you require assistance–”

“No, no! It’s my coat and I shouldn’t be so lazy.”

“You are anything but lazy,” Fenris said with a huff. He let go of Anders’ coat but didn’t step back. At least not until Isabela gave a loud yawn, definitely not a sincere one. Fenris looked over his shoulder and stepped back quickly.

“If you want to undress Anders, I have it on good understanding that a bottle of rum helps the process along,” Isabela said, a wicked grin across her painted lips.

Anders saw Fenris ball his fists, grinding his foot into the sand. He wasn’t growling but Anders did not need an incident.

“Don’t be silly, Isabela. Besides, those days are long behind such an old man like myself.” He waved his hand at her.

“Old?” Isabela laughed. “You’re still as good looking as you were at thirty, cutie. I’m sure Fenris agrees. Don’t you, Fenris?”

“I did not know the mage when he was thirty,” was Fenris’ reply.

“Well that’s one way to cleverly sidestep the question. Honestly, you boys.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged. They were clearly the burden of her life. “Oh, Hawke! Sweetie, are we quite done here?”

Anders glared at her back as she sauntered off. Still…it would be nice if it were true. He knew he wasn’t anything like the strapping young man he had been at thirty. On a good day he felt old.

“She is correct,” Fenris said.

Anders spun around and Fenris was _right there_. So close he tried to take a step back and would have if not for the hand clutching at his wrist.

“I imagine you were a very handsome young man, but I doubt that has diminished,” Fenris continued. He squeezed Anders’ wrist and then let go, stepping around him and following where Isabela had gone down the path.

Anders blinked and rubbed at his wrist where Fenris had held him. Fenris had… Fenris… Was Fenris flirting with him? He glanced over his shoulder to watch his retreating form.

Maybe he wasn’t so old as he thought.

* * *

 

Anders sunk into the bath with a blissful sigh. The water was just the right temperature with a soft floral fragrance that wafted around him with the steam. The itchiness of his skin immediately subsided and the aches of the past few days seemed to melt away.

Surely this was better than meeting the Maker himself.

Anders dunked his head under the water. He had already scrubbed himself near raw, attacked his hair with a comb and oils, and he finally felt free of sand and grit.

He really owed Fenris for this. If he was in Darktown right now he would be going to bed itchy and cold from a poor excuse of a bath with rag and bucket.

He luxuriated for as long as he thought he could get away with, which was right up until his fingers and toes started to get wrinkly. He finally slipped out of the water and dried himself with a soft towel Fenris had given him. He didn’t ask where he had gotten it from, as it didn’t seem like the sort of thing Fenris would worry about, but he was grateful for having it.

Of course now he was going to have to put his filthy clothes back on and– _Oh_.

Next to the bathroom door there was a little stool that looked as though it had been pushed in so that the door would not open far and disturb his privacy. On the stool was a robe. Mage robes, to be exact. Though not any Anders had ever seen. Very likely they were Tevinter in origin, found in a cupboard or chest in one of the many rooms of the mansion. Anders smiled and felt a rush of affection for Fenris. He really did seem to…Anders wasn’t sure. Want this to work? Wanted his friendship? More? Or did his instincts compel him to care for Anders? His _mate_.

Whatever it was, Anders wasn’t at all perturbed because it meant he had clean, if not a little dusty smelling, robes to wear fresh out of the most wonderful bath. And he was going to have a proper bed to sleep on! Really, he was a simple man with simple tastes.

He slipped the robe on over his head and let it fall over him. The inside was lined with silk and was cool and slippery against his clean skin. The outer fabric was thicker, and it was a little big on him, but they would do. Certainly better than his own clothing right now.

Anders stepped out into the hall and quickly made his way to Fenris’ room. It was cold in the mansion and Fenris’ room was wonderfully warm. Sure enough the fire was roaring in the hearth and Fenris was seated nearby with a bottle in his hand. He looked up when Anders stepped in.

His expression wasn’t quite was Anders was expecting.

“I apologise…it was all I had that would fit you,” he said and looked back at the fire. His fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle.

“No, it’s great. Much better than putting my clothes back on.”

“Ah.”

Anders stepped closer, his bare feet dodging any broken glass he might see glinting in the firelight. “Is something wrong?”

“I have not seen robes like that since Tevinter. It is…unsettling.”

“Oh. I could take them off?” Anders said and then had to laugh. Fenris looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow. “You know what I mean!”

“Isabela said that it would take a whole bottle of rum to get you to remove your clothes. I have not even offered you a drink.”

“Arse,” Anders said with a snort of laughter. He sat down on one of the low benches near the fire, sticking his feet out to warm. “But if it worries you, maybe we could find something else?”

“No. …they suit you. More so than many mages I have seen wearing similar.”

“Well, thank you.”

“But you smell.”

“I just had a bath!”

“No…” Fenris frowned. “Not like that. You smell…like they did.”

Anders turned to press his nose against the fabric of the robe. He couldn’t smell anything but dust and the floral smell of the bath salts. But elves naturally had a better sense of smell than humans, and Fenris was a werewolf. He must be able to smell a hundred times better than Anders could.

“It is fine,” Fenris said.

“No, I understand. Is there something I could do? Wait…wait, hang on.” Anders stood. Across the room he spied Fenris’ bed and laying across the pillow was a large shirt, obviously what Fenris slept in. Anders scooped it up and rubbed it across his face.

“What are you doing?” Fenris asked, eyes wide in the dim light.

“Making me smell like you!” Anders said. He scrubbed himself with the shirt - his hair, his neck, arms, and finally across the fabric of the robes, trying to overpower the old scent.

And then Fenris was there. Anders almost fell backwards, startled as he heard a low whine from Fenris. Fenris placed careful hands on his shoulders and leaned forward, burying his nose against Anders’ neck.

“Ooohhhhkay. We can do that. Yes, my fault really. Shouldn’t have been quite so enthusiastic there.”

Fenris made another whining sound as he snuffled against Anders’ neck. Anders couldn’t really complain and actually…it was nice.

Fenris looked up - he had to, being shorter than Anders - and his eyes reflected the light, making them look ethereal and animal. He stood on his toes and Anders held his breath and…

Fenris licked his cheek.

Anders laughed and shoved at Fenris, who seemed to get the idea and shoved back lightly, a smile on his face. He distanced himself from Anders then, but he was still smiling. Anders considered that a bonus.


End file.
